Okay, okay, here is the usual disclaimer: I own nothing save for Adela (well and maybe her stylized halla figurine). Bioware has my eternal gratitude for creating this world and letting me play in their sandbox.

As stated before, I'm not going canon with the game or the books - just a slight twist to make things fit to my story. This chapter has a bit of a flashback, answering a bit with regards to the "broken promise", and a bit of fluff, too.

And, thanks for the reviews! Biff McLauglin, mutive. They help keep me going knowing that some of you find it interesting.

DragonAge: Origins: The Halla Reborn

Chapter 5

We are making good time, Duncan thought, looking over at his elven recruit. The young woman soldiered on gamely, never offering a complaint, but always open to suggestion and even offering her own. Duncan's initial surprise by how much like her mother she was had shifted a bit. Yes, she had many of Adaia's strengths, but she seemed bereft of the many weaknesses the overly proud Dalish warrior had. Perhaps that's Cyrion's influence, the Warden considered. He had been most impressed by how quickly she had rebounded from the trauma of just a couple of weeks ago. He did not know all of the details of what exactly had happened in the Arl's estate, but from the haggard and beleaguered appearance and demeanor of the surviving elves, he was certain it had not been pleasant. Oh, he knew the girl was not completely recovered - there was a sadness and pain that lingered in her eyes, especially when she thought she was unobserved. He hoped she would find someone she could talk to about what had happened. Too often than not, leaving such things unsaid only caused festering wounds on the soul and psyche, and Duncan felt that this girl was far too special to allow that to happen.

He glanced back again, watching as the girl shifted her pack and continued walking. They had opportunity to stop at a farmstead the night prior, and the kindly farmer and his wife had offered up a hot bath for the pair. The couple had been uncertain as to the relationship between their guests, and Duncan recalled the horrified expression that came upon Adela's face when the wife tentatively asked if they would mind sleeping in separate rooms. He chuckled now as he recalled how Adela had firmly advised the goodwife that separate rooms were, indeed, acceptable.

Adela glanced up from the ground, her right eyebrow rising in query. A most decidedly Adaia expression, Duncan acknowledged, still chuckling.

"Are you going to tell me what you are laughing at," Adela asked as she hurried to Duncan's side, glancing up into his face, a hand shielding her eyes from the sun, "or shall I simply presume you are laughing at me - still - and leave it at that?" As she said the words, the corners of her mouth lifted in a near smile, but the amusement was plain to see in her eyes. Duncan allowed an open smile. In the past two weeks of traveling together, the pair had gotten to know each other relatively well. Adela, who was normally shy, especially around people she only recently met, had become far more open and candid. And Duncan found himself enjoying the young woman's company greatly. He realized he had not smiled so much in the past couple of years as he had during these past few weeks.

That same smile on his rugged face, Duncan bowed his head slightly, admitting, "I was, indeed, still chuckling about the bedroom incident." He watched as Adela shook her head, and laughed harder as she mouthed "Infant". To save face, Duncan then said, "I knew your mother," he waited for the girl's reaction. Deep interest clouded her eyes, and her face lit with genuine curiosity. "I had even tried to recruit her into the Grey Wardens - several times, in fact."

"Oh?" the girl asked, "And why did she not join?"

Duncan shrugged, the movement adjusting his own backpack. "She really had no use for us, I'm afraid." His lips quirked at the memory of the Dalish warrior woman, defiance smeared across her face, her bow slung almost carelessly across her back, hands on hips, as she firmly told Duncan that he and the rest of his group could well find Arlathan itself before she would ever join, even if they so much as thought to use the Right of Conscription. Despite her obvious dislike for the order - and humans on the whole - Adaia had been one of the most honorable and likeable women he had ever met. She told the truth - as she saw it - and allowed you to disagree. But, if you tried to tell her she was wrong…well, those conversations never ended well. And, she was extremely opinionated. The memory of an argument between the elven woman and Loghain came to mind and he shook his head at the remembrance of it. The two could almost go nose to nose, and neither backed down from their conviction. The problem with those two, Duncan thought, was that they thought too much alike, and never realized that, on the whole, they had actually agreed with one another.

Adela watched Duncan's face as it softened in memory. "Did you know her well?" she asked, pulling the Grey Warden from his revelries. Her question was met with an almost sad smile, "Did anyone really know Adaia Maheriel?" He asked, sighing, with a slight shrug. "Your mother was complicated. She disliked humans immensely, yet fought beside Maric, Rowan and Loghain against the Orlesians. She hated cities, yet ended up marrying an elven man from an Alienage and raised a fine daughter." He bowed to the girl. "She felt that those too weak or lazy to defend themselves had no place upon the world, and yet she defended the elves of the Alienage with an almost religious fervor, and died because of it." He looked back at Adela's face, and knew he had her full attention. "And she hated my order, almost passionately. Yet, she was always friendly to me - when I wasn't trying to recruit her." He smiled again.

"Why would she hate an order such as the Grey Wardens?" Adela simply had to ask.

A long sigh and then Duncan replied, "Mostly, she had secrecy. Always honest and upfront herself, she felt that my order was far too secretive, and in her mind, that meant untrustworthy." A slight shrug and he looked back at his companions. "I am glad that her prejudices did not get passed down to you, Adela. You have her passion, but also your father's good sense and compassion. You have the best qualities of both people, and that makes you unique in this world. The true qualities of a leader."

Intrigued, Adela asked, "How so, Duncan?"

"Ha," he chuckled, "How about you answer a question for me?" His dark gaze held Adela's, and she found its intensity unnerving. Clearing her throat (why was she suddenly nervous?) she replied with a simple "Yes". Duncan paused, not quite certain how to pose his question, or if even the girl knew the answer. "When the discussion of punishment came up back at the Alienage, before the guards arrived, Velendrian suggested you go to the Queen, that she may protect you," Adela nodded, "Why did you refuse?" He studied her face carefully. "After all, the Queen most certainly could protect you and, from what I had heard, you and she are quite close."

A frown marred Adela's lovely face, and she turned her face away from Duncan as she searched for her answer, biting her lower lip. Duncan waited patiently, allowing the girl to fully understand her reason before she had to voice them to another. He suspected he knew the answer, as one of the few who knew of Maric's broken promise to the girl's mother. He wanted to reach over the pull the lip she was savaging from between her teeth, but decided that would be a too familiar action, and decided they did not know each other nearly well enough for such. Although I feel as though I have known this girl all her life.

He broke from his thoughts as Adela cleared her throat, clearly ready to answer his question. "Well, you see, Anora and Cailan have both been working hard on changing the laws regarding elves and their status in Fereldan," she started. Duncan nodded, not saying a word. "They have met with a great deal of resistance from the nobles."

"They told you this?" Duncan asked quietly.

Tipping her head side to side, biting at the inside of her cheek, Adela shrugged her shoulders, "Cailan mentioned once a great deal of frustration with the nobles on the issue, but neither really came right out and said anything. It was Loghain who made a point of making it a topic after dinner one night."

"Oh? Loghain?" Duncan's interest was piqued.

She offered the commander a lopsided grin, remembering the events of that night. "It was shortly after a Landsmeet, and Anora and Cailan, as they normally did, invited me over for dinner once all the nobles had left for their respective estates."

"They did this often?"

She nodded, "Oh yes. Anora told me that she and Cailan found that my company after having to deal with stubborn nobles who felt they were far more entitled than anyone else to have a calming effect on them. Cailan even joked that it had the same effect on Loghain, although," she chuckled, "I highly doubt that." She shifted her pack again as they continued to walk, Duncan's attention still on her as she told him of that night. "We were just settling down in one of the smaller dining rooms in the palace, food laid out in a buffet style…Anora did that mostly for me. She knew I felt strange having elves wait upon me, and many of the servants at the palace are elves…"

The night had been unusually warm, and both Anora and Cailan were visibly upset by the turn of events at the Landsmeet. Their presentation of a bill to amend the laws regarding elves had met, yet again, with strong residence in the Landsmeet. Cailan had all but stormed from the proceedings, leaving Anora to calm frayed nerves and insulted egos. She understood his frustration - she had shared it as well. But, it did not do well to simply walk out of talks. They needed the nobles consent if the bill was to work, they could not simply mandate it and expect it to be followed. They decided to call an early break and the nobles left for the night. Adela knew of these events because Cailan made a point of sulking about it (yes, sulking. And she teased him about it as well, to which the king merely rolled his eyes at her). Loghain's scowl was deeper than usual, and Anora could not find it within her to properly entertain her friend.

Frowning, Adela poked the queen with her fork, hoping for some reaction. All she received was a cold glare. Both brows rose at this, and then Anora's icy countenance broke, and a heavy sigh escaped her lips. "I am sorry, Adela," the queen reached over and squeezed her friend's arm, "I fear we are all poor hosts this evening."

The elven girl merely shrugged. "Well, at least I'm not Teryna Cousland, so you really don't need to worry about being polite."

Loghain's head snapped up, "Don't," he scolded, raising a finger as though Adela were an impetuous child. "That's just the thinking those fool nobles encourage, and I'll not hear it from you, Adela Maherial Tabris!"

Anora and Cailan gaped openly at Loghain's outburst. He had never spoken in such a tone to Adela. For her part, Adela merely stared at the Teryn for a moment, her deeper than night blue eyes staring into Loghain's paler orbs. Then, with a slight nod of her head, she replied, "Understood, Teryn Loghain. I was, however, merely offering a joke…"

A sharp sputter of air - not quite a sigh - escaped Loghain's lips. "Be that as it may, young Adela, never think yourself below those who would want you to believe so." His gaze was penetrating, holding the young elven woman in place. "You come from a proud and noble line, regardless of race. Your mother once told me that the Maherial line was royalty among the Dalish. And, knowing your mother, I believe it." He bent down to his food, lifting his eyes, offering a slight quirk of his brow as he lifted a forkful to his mouth.

Cailan, feeling the tension ease slightly, turned his attention back to his plate, but Anora sat staring at her father for a few moments longer.

When dinner was over, the diners went to a sitting room, where Anora and Adela discussed their gardens and new orders Adela and her father had received, and Cailan and Loghain merely sat, keeping the women company, injecting advice or other comments into the conversations. As the visit grew to a close, Loghain offered to escort Adela to the front gates. After a brief exchange of confused glances, Anora hugged Adela good bye just before Cailan pulled her into his arms for a hug as well. Anora rolled her eyes at her husband, playfully swatting his arm. Adela had to grin. Anora seldom openly displayed affection for anyone and she felt honored that the queen considered her a good enough friend to trust with these "lapses".

Loghain took the young woman's arm and led her from the room, and out to the gates. The guards there bowed respectfully to the Teryn and, at his nod, moved away from the pair. Never releasing his hold on her arm, Loghain turned Adela to face him.

She turned her eyes up to look into the Teryn's face. His face somehow seemed softer in the darkness, and she felt a little flustered at the attention he was showing her this evening. "Adela," he started, "How much do you know of your mother's history with Maric, Rowan and myself?"

She frowned at the unexpected question. She knew her mother had fought beside both men and the former queen during the rebellion. She also knew that her mother had been very angry with King Maric, but had never known the reason. Recalling the night Loghain had found her and brought her mother's lifeless body to the palace, she realized that there was something more than a comrades in arms relationship between them. Frowning, she returned her gaze back to Loghain, her frown telling him all he needed to know. "We were friends, Adela. She saved Maric on numerous occasions, Rowan a few, and me, well, let's say that while she did not save my life by strength of arms, she did save it by strength of heart and convictions." He sighed. "We all owed her a great deal, and her name is never even mentioned in any history books." He frowned, his gaze shifting to the heavens above them. "Not that she would want it to be," he muttered, looking down at Adaia's daughter. "With all she had done for us, she only ever asked for one thing, one promise that has yet to be fulfilled." His eyes, sharp and piercing, turned back to the girl he continued to hold at arms length. "All she ever asked for was that the elves of Fereldan be treated like the people that they were." He let go of his hold, crossing his arms, and turning his back facing the palace. Adela did not see the array of emotions that crossed his face, but his stance was straight, showing a great deal of discomfort. He looked back over at her, frown back in place. "Cailan and Anora strive to fulfill that promise made by Maric all those years ago. And the nobles still refuse to see that elves have been of great assistance to this nation time and again! Had the laws been changed when Maric promised…" his head bowed, "your mother would yet still draw breath."

Shaken, unsure how to respond, Adela stood before the gates, the warm breeze ruffling her hair. So, she reached forward and placed a small hand upon Loghain's arm, squeezing it a bit. The man looked down at the small hand, so graceful, smooth and perfect. Sighing, he placed a larger paw over it, and turned back to the girl.

"That's why Anora and Cailan strive so hard for the passage of the new bill?" she asked, understanding at last what Loghain was telling her, "To fulfill the promise Maric never did?"

"Partly," he acknowledged. "Not fulfilling that promise, coupled with Adaia's violent death, also prompted Maric to take great interest in your life. He felt guilty. I had still maintained contact with your mother over the years, but she never truly trusted us again." He frowned, looking down at the hand that covered hers. "The more time that passed, the more she figured that we would never uphold our promise, and she would continue to fight for and protect the elves that were not her clan, who were weaker than she and who had given up hope long ago." He lifted Adela's hand in his own, turning the palm over, and lightly kissed the palm. A tingle ran up her arm, and she gaped at the man who had never shown any kind of affection for her before. She realized discussing her mother had a strong emotional impact on him, and she wondered about that as well. "Cailan took an immediate liking to you and did not know of his father's broken promise until he and Anora were wed." He shrugged at the question in Adela's eyes, "Anora knew of it. And she told him."

Adela bowed her head. Was Loghain trying to tell her that the royals' friendship with her was out of some sense of guilt? She looked up, Loghain's eyes holding a sense of openness she had never seen there before. No, she realized. He was trying to make her see how hard the king and queen were fighting for this; how hard he would fight for it. To fulfill a broken promise. She nodded, smiling at the Teryn, the legend, who seemed to be standing before her asking for her forgiveness. None was needed, as far as she was concerned. Loghain still held her hand, and she used that leverage and stood on her tiptoes, placing a soft, chaste kiss on his cheek. With a whispered "Good night" she turned and left the palace grounds. Loghain watched as she melted into the shadows, his hand going to a pocket wherein lay the stylized halla figurine the girl had carved just a couple of years earlier.

Duncan remained silent as she spoke. So, Loghain had told her of the promise Maric had been unable to fulfill? Duncan found that interesting. Looking at his companion, he asked, "So, this is why you refused to go to the queen for assistance?" He wasn't sure he completely saw the connection, but had his own thoughts and wanted to see how close on target he was.

With a nod of her head, the girl replied, "If I were to beg the queen and king for sanctuary, how would the nobles take that? As some knife-ear" Duncan scowled at the term "using her influence over the royals to protect her, even though she blatantly broke the law. Apparently there were enough rumors going around regarding our relationship," she shivered at the memory of Vaughan's outburst regarding Cailan, "and I do not want my crimes to affect the rest of my people. As it is," she looked up at Duncan, her eyes betraying a slight annoyance at him, "your conscription of me into the Wardens may have repercussions for them in court, but I'm not savvy to politics that I could well be wrong." She shrugged her slender shoulders. "I just did not want any questions raised. I committed a crime, in self defense, yes. I do have to question and wonder if we really needed to kill all of those guards?" she shrugged again, this time causing her pack to shift uncomfortably on her back. "I don't ever want anyone to think that I would hide behind my friendship to the king and queen and think I can get away with something because of it."

Duncan walked quietly by her side for several minutes, and then nodded. "Understandable." He grinned down at the lovely elven woman. "You still seek to protect your people. Very worthy. But, remember Adela," his voice turned stern, "As a Grey Warden, everyone is now your people, we make no distinction between race or class, noble or commoner, mage or warrior. Among the Wardens you are not an elf; you will always be a Grey Warden first."

She snorted, "Well, make sure the rest of the world has the new rules, will you? If I hear 'knife ears' one more time…" she chuckled, her expression softening as she tilted her head upwards to look Duncan in the eye (Duncan noticed that she always seemed intent to look people in the eye, another good quality). "But, it's good to know, Duncan. Very good to know." She grinned up at him. "So, tell me about some of the other Wardens."

Duncan's chuckled rose, "Well, there is one Warden, just a few years older than yourself, who is our junior warden. His name is Alistair." An affectionate look crossed his eyes. "I think you will like him. He has a…quirky sense of humor, is a rather self-deprecating lad. And, oh, yes," he smirked, "he has an unholy love of all things cheese."

"Cheese?" the young elven woman asked, her right brow rising as a slight laugh hitched her voice.

Nodding, Duncan said, "Yes, any cheese really. I have no idea how he came up with such an obsession, but the rest of the Wardens have taken to piling their plate with cheese immediately before the boy can get his hands on it."

Adela faced forward, an amused expression on her face. "Cheese, huh?" She looked back up, "Anything else you can tell me? Such as, am I a Grey Warden now or do I need to pass some sort of a test?"

She did not notice the darkening of Duncan's face. The man felt an uncomfortable twinge in his stomach. He liked the girl; she was the daughter of a very old friend, and he hated lying - by omission - to her. The lass was nothing short of entirely open and honest (Alistair will love her), and he felt badly that, in this, he could not offer the same. However, "There is the joining, the ritual that makes a Grey Warden," he began, but raised a hand to her next question, "It is kept secret, and for good reason. I won't be able to tell you about it until the time of the joining."

"Oh," was all she said as she glanced up at the setting sun. "Well, okay, I understand, I guess. Is there anything you can tell me?" she prompted.

Looking at her profile, Duncan replied, "The sun will be setting in a couple of hours and I know of a spot to set up camp," he stifled a laugh at the girl's annoyed expression. "I am sorry, Adela. There are many things I do need to tell you, but only…"

"…after the joining," the girl finished. With a wave of her hand, she grumbled, "Fine, fine. Keep your secrets, silly Warden. I'll find them out when I pass the joining."

With an exaggerated flounce, Adela quickened her pace, casting back to Duncan a contrived look of superior annoyance before skipping ahead. Duncan rolled his eyes and smiled at the elf's antics. I have no doubt you will pass, he thought as the sun continued its westward journey toward sunset.

DA:O

The flickering light from the campfire illuminated the small camp, creating shadows that moved just beyond the perimeter. The tents Duncan had acquired prior to leaving Denerim were set up at one end, and the smell of conies sizzling over the fire reminded Duncan - even more than his grumbling stomach - that he had not eaten since earlier in the day. Stepping into the lit center of their camp, Duncan watched as Adela turned the spit the four small rabbits were strung upon, watching the crackling and sputtering skins spit grease, dripping into the flames. Shaking his head, he sat down on the log behind the girl. Although he was pleased that they were be eating fresh food instead of the rations they had been eating these past couple of weeks.

"Now, who would have thought a city girl such as yourself knew how to hunt?" he teased, unbuckling the silverite breast plate he wore. With a heavy sigh, he removed the armor, rubbing his hands over the soft cotton shift he wore beneath.

"Heh…" Adela's response was more sound than word as Duncan's comment broke her from her thoughts, "Do you really think Adaia Mahariel would allow her daughter to reach age ten without knowing how to care for herself in the wilderness?" her voice rose slightly in affected pique. "Really?" She looked back over her shoulder to the older man. With a small giggle, she continued, "I actually love to hunt. It's the skinning and cleaning part I hate. Had you not disappeared to wherever you went…" she gestured vaguely in the direction he came from, "you would have been given that delightful task."

Raising his hands in mock surrender, Duncan replied, a chuckle in his voice, "Alright, alright. I doubt Adaia could tolerate her daughter being reared without some common knowledge of survival techniques." He watched as the girl nodded her consent, turning her gaze back to the meal cooking before her. He saw a watchful, guarded expression come to her eyes. "Are you well, Adela?"

"Hmmm…?" she glanced up. "Oh! Sorry Duncan, I was just thinking…"

Pulling off his boots and setting them aside, Duncan nodded, "I've noticed. Your eyes get an almost far away look, but it's still as though they are watching everything around them." He tilted his head. "It's actually a bit unnerving."

"Really?" She asked, "I hadn't known that." She gave the spit a turn, resting her chin on one knee. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Well, my dear, I believe you just did," came the wry reply.

"Oh, ha ha," she retorted, "You are just too funny. And you wonder why Mother did not want to join the Wardens?"

"Ah, ah, my dear girl. I do not wonder. I know she did not like us, and I know the why," he made a welcome gesture with his hand. "Go ahead and ask your question."

Another turn of the spit, and the fire spat and crackled as the fat from the rabbits dripped down. "Is it strange to mourn for someone you barely knew?" she looked up into Duncan's face, which she noticed was carefully guarded. "I mean, I barely knew Nelaros, and before I even met him I was prepared to…well, not like him. But, from what I did know of him, I almost feel as though I am now…missing something." She scoffed, looking down at the wedding ring Nelaros had placed on her finger before his death. "It's strange. How can I be missing something I never had?"

Her eyes were turned back to the conies, watching the flames lick up to the greasy flesh. She didn't really expect an answer from Duncan; how could he answer something like that? Did he know anything of loss? She presumed so. What warrior - especially one from an order more dedicated to others than any other she had heard of - would not know of loss. She knew Maric had known loss; Loghain she was certain of it. Her mother? Yes, from what she remembered, most definitely yes. She looked back over to the warden. "I apologize, Duncan. It's an unfair question, especially when taken out of context." She pulled the spit from the flames, resting the rabbits on the hot stone. She heard Duncan shuffle behind her, and felt his strong hand on her shoulder. Tearing her gaze from the flames, she was startled to see such an expression of sympathy radiating from those dark, intense eyes. "I can tell you, from experience, my dear girl," his voice laden with emotion he thought long buried, "it is more than possible to mourn the loss of something, especially when you believe you never had it."

Biting her lip, she nodded, reaching up to pat the hand that had remained on her shoulder. Then, with a slight quirk of her eyebrows, she turned her attention back to the conies. Duncan moved back to his seat, and watched silently as she pulled two off from the spit and placed them on a plate, handing it to him. "I can't vouch for my open fire culinary skills, but, I'm certain they're edible." With a small smile, she pulled one off for herself, settling on the ground, her back against the log Duncan sat upon. Stunned by his own reaction to Adela's question, Fereldan's Commander of the Grey ate in silence, his eyes staring, unseeing, into the flames of the fire.